


And You

by orphan_account



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn, Slow Updates, TODae - Freeform, complicated canon, future-BIGBANG, shifting timelines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2018-12-26 01:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12048039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Kang Daesung has to deal with the return of Choi Seunghyun and hundred possibilities of (another) heartbreaks he brings. [daengel, LosingInterest; 2017]





	1. One

It’s faded away.

I don’t want to wonder how it ends because then I would have to remember how it’s started as well. I don’t even know if there was, if there ever was it. I have no reason to ask why just as much as I have no idea about what brought you here. After all these times, why _me_?

But then again, I’m still _you_.

 

 

 

“How’s life?”

_Bitter_ , I don’t say as I sip my tea. The calming sensation doesn’t happen to me this time when the liquid flows down my throat. There’s a lump there that I wasn’t aware about before…or maybe had gotten used to it. “Good.”

“I saw you on the news yesterday,” you say. You don’t look like someone who just jumped from fashion magazine but I do. I still do.

“Yeah, life,” I shrug. You smile and I wish it’s not the same but it is. It’s one thing about you I can’t really forget. Unfortunately, it’s not the only thing. “How are you, hyung?”

“The usual,” you look away. I wonder what you’re looking at, I want those eyes to be set on me again. “You _know_.”

I do but I don’t, not really. I’m missing you who would talk to me, who would spill the story for me eventhough I knew bits and pieces about it already. There was magic in your voice, I want to make sure it’s still there, unlike the rest of you.

Or maybe I want to be sure it’s gone as well, so that I have nothing of _you_.

Anymore.

 

 

 

_Your arm around my waist and my hand rested on your shoulder. We’re doing the super lazy waltz I supposed, although the amount of wine in our blood made it seemed nothing like dancing. You’re just slightly taller than I was, I could feel your breath against my ear and the way it made everything else fell silent._

_“What are we doing?” you murmured against my cheek. It wasn’t entirely dark outside but it was not so bright in the room we’re in, I wished you couldn’t see the way red made its way on my skin._

_“I don’t know,” I didn’t know why I laughed either but I must be doing just that because then I heard you giggling. “I’m usually just drinking by myself.”_

_“You can’t dance by yourself,” you pulled back a little until we’re staring at each other, still grinning. I wanted to ask if stars just fell and landed in your eyes but it sounded like crappy poetic lines Youngbae–hyung would write in his love letter for his girlfriend so I kept my mouth shut._

_“Well, I don’t dance by myself, hyung,” I never forgot the honorifics because I knew how much you liked it. You loved being the big brother among us, you loved being the one someone else could count on to. “I just drink and sleep.”_

_“All by yourself, what’s the fun?” you sneered and I hit your arm but I laughed too. My limbs were slightly tired but I didn’t want to sit down just yet. Or sleep._

_I’d be dreaming about you anyway._

_“What’s fun then?” I asked as if I was curious. I’d never misunderstood the gleam in your eyes, the way your lips curled up when you’re being playful and mischievous._

_“This,” your fingers landed on my neck and I slumped forward laughing my whole life until our chests collided and my screams were muffled by your shoulder. My head felt so light I thought my brain must’ve disconnected from its post._

_I pulled back as soon as you’re done scuffing me, far enough for me to look at your pale face, still close enough to feel your heat against my skin. I couldn’t blame the alcohol for making my vision blurry ‘til I could see about six or seven of you._

_I’ve been waiting to see you._

_“Daesung,” you said and just then I realized how close actually we were. I didn’t know if it was me or you who had titled the head to the side first so we could meet on the lips, wet and soft in the low light. “What are we doing?”_

_This time I didn’t laugh because I knew exactly what we’re doing._

 

 

 

“I’ll see you soon, Daesung,” you wave me goodbye, standing by the door. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” I repeat, still in sort of dreaming. The news you brought exactly something I expected the least. Maybe it’s a karma.

“You want me to pick you up?”

“You don’t drive,” I retort, almost immediately. It’s automatic response because some part of my brain wants you just the way before you left.

“I do now,” you laugh, small and shyly. “I learned about it.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t you think I will?” you make a face at me. “At some point of my life, I’d learn how to drive. You learned how to swim too, right?”

I did. I did so I wouldn’t drown. Because I knew you wouldn’t be around.

 

 

 

_The second time we kissed, it was your fault._

_It’s getting easier to find something else to blame, someone else instead of myself._

_“We’re friends,” you said after the silence. Your words were as cold as January and fireworks got me deaf and blinded, I couldn’t care less._

_“Bestfriends,” I said. “Brothers.”_

_You nodded and those words crawled into my veins like sin, a sign of falling into trust you should’ve seen but you didn’t and I was too selfish to show you._

_It was your fault._

 

 

 

“Seunghyun–hyung was here,” I say after _hello_. “I didn’t know he would come.”

“Well, Daesung,” Jiyong’s voice isn’t sober. “I didn’t know he would come either.”

“But sure you know he’ll be joining us for the comeback?”

“I do,” Jiyong answers after a long sigh. Words seem to fail him this time. “I thought it’s better if you figure it out yourself.”

“By having he suddenly giving me a visit?”

“Maybe–”

“After almost three years? After turning his back to us?”

“Daesung–”

“How would you expect me to figure it out by myself? How could you?”

“Because I don’t know how to tell about it without …”

“Without _what_?”

There’s a pause. A silence that feels too loud for me. Facts and truths others had witnessed before their eyes but never dared to tell me about. “Maybe Seunghyun will give me a visit too.”

“You haven’t met him?” I feel anger deflated in me.

“No, you’re first, I guess. You’re always the first.”

 

 

 

_Your coat was cherry red and it matched your wine. I wish I was drunk enough to tell you everything I wanted to tell but neither of us touched the drink. Your eyes the color of mourning, it spoke volumes until I couldn’t breathe._

_“I wonder if it hurts to die.”_

_My hand reached to squeeze yours, a reassurance for myself that I still had you by my side. “Hyung, I’m here.”_

_“But you’d be gone by later,” you smiled. “You’d rather be anywhere by now.”_

_“That’s not true,” I realized I had spoken the truth. “I’m here.”_

_“When will you come back?”_

_“Soon,” my throat was closing in. “It’s just a work trip.”_

_“I’ll miss you, Daesung.”_

_“I’ll miss you too, hyung.”_

_Your phone rang and we both jumped, suddenly aware of the non–exist distant between us. Just like that, we crawled back to where we should be._

_Not together._

 

 

 

There’s a cost for everything. There’s price I have to pay for things I ask, for dreams I wish for.

Right now, it’s the anxiety that creeps in my veins like snake, rooting inside my heart. I don’t know I’ve been waiting until I am pacing back and forth. I don’t know I’ve been looking forward to see you although I know for sure I’ve failed to step back from you.

It takes everything for me to not to launch myself to the door as soon as the bell rings.

“Ready?” you ask.

“I should be the one asking you that, hyung,” if there are things I’ve forgotten, it’s how easy it was to breathe with you by my side. It’s how it feels to be just me.

You laugh nervously, fidgeting with your car keys. “I am,” then with very quiet whisper you add, “I will be.”

I wonder if your heart skip a beat too, when I look at you. I wonder if the butterflies are still alive, waiting for their chance to spark those wings again.

Because ones in my stomach do exactly just that.


	2. Two

You left during an unpredicted rainy day. The sun was nowhere to be seen and the sky was dark, as if it’s crying over your decision. There were a cup of tea sitting untouched on the table in front of me. Seungri’s question was the only sentence being said that day in the room, I couldn’t even lift my head to look into your eyes.

It wasn’t until weeks later, when the news became official, that I finally brought myself to bid you goodbye. When you told me that you’re sorry, I lied to you that it’s the best for us, that I’d let go of you.

It was not the first time I lied to you but it was the time I lied to myself too.

 

 

“Oi, Seunghyun!”

I watch Jiyong runs before throwing his arms around you, forcing you to carry all the weight of his. I hear you let out an _oof_ but then you laugh, the sound travels through the walls and Youngbae emerges from the meeting room, almost tripped and fall down as he hurries to give you a hug too.

“Welcome back, hyung!”

I know that your cheeks will turn red even before they do.

“Where’s Seungri? How come he’s not here? This is my day,” you complain, trying to make an angry face but failed. Happiness radiates through your eyes as if it’s always been there all the time.

“He’ll be here in a minute,” Jiyong links his arm with yours and you squeak because you’re still not the _touchy_ type of a person. “Busy kid. How are you doing, Seunghyun?”

I exclude myself from the conversation by sneaking into the room first. I sit down and pretend that I don’t feel your gaze at me, I speak nothing as if I hadn’t been dying to talk to you again.

 

 

The meeting was more like a sudden party. Everyone seemed to be confused for mere second before suddenly overcame with joy of seeing you. I guess it wasn’t only me who had thought that you’d be gone forever.

“Jiyong told me,” Youngbae says as we walk to the parking lot together. You’re lost in the festive crowd of our staffs and I don’t want to ruin the mood. You deserve the warm hugs, the welcome, the feeling of home I wish this time would make you stay. All the things we – _I_ –failed to give you before.

“About what, hyung?”

“That Seunghyun–hyung gave you a visit,” he hesitates before adding, “I didn’t mean to hide this news from you, neither did Jiyong.”

“I know,” I smile because I really do know. “It’s okay, I wasn’t mad at any of you. I was just surprised.”

“You didn’t expect him to comeback, did you?”

To be honest, I don’t know. The day you went was the day I stopped believing that I _knew_ you. I didn’t expect you to comeback, I didn’t expect you to never come again either. I stopped waiting for tomorrow.

“Maybe,” I shrug, not sure if there’s a real answer to his question.

 

 

_Where are you?_

I don’t know the number but it’s not that hard to guess. I don’t know where you got my number but probably Jiyong –or Seungri if he made it to the building last night.

_Home_ , I reply, 7 hours late maybe you don’t want to know anymore. I count to ten until I’m certain that you’re not going to respond, that you’re not trying to make your way back to _me_ even as I unconsciously am making my way back to you once again.

I look up to the ceiling, staring at the empty and blank whites. They say you can’t measure love. The amount is either too small or too much. I wonder if it’s born every minute, red and bright like stars. I wonder if it dies like flowers, gone thirst to grey.

I wonder if ours ever start to breathe. I wonder if it’s already gone before I even had chance to make out a name.

 

 

_“Why are you coming?” you were blocking my path from entering your villa–house, standing as giant marble challenging me to give you reasons._

_“You asked for it,” I shrugged. Technically, what you’ve asked me was Daesung, are you busy?, but we’ve been dancing around each other for years to know that words sometimes were clues; codes._

_“Come in,” your shoulder relaxed visibly, your hand reached to guide mine. Your house smelled like you; an overshadowed moonlight. “It’s freezing outside.”_

_“I feel like a snowman.”_

_“I can see your carrot nose, Daesung.”_

_I laughed and your smile was that one kind I haven’t seen in a while._

_“Want to watch something?” you asked because we never really had a plan. “Or drink?”_

_“As long as it’s not terrible romantic movies,” I sat down comfortable on one of your prize possession of chairs._

_“Be right back,” you disappeared to the kitchen and I watched the clock waving its hands._

_It’s six in the morning of almost winter, the sky was dull shade of grey and wind retraced my path to you. I knew I wouldn’t tell anybody about this, about times I pretended that we were still young and I didn’t have my own life as much as you had yours._

 

 

We never called it a relationship. I’m always grateful about it because then I don’t have to explain how we parted ways. How everything crumbled beneath our own two feet and things that we thought would stain ourselves forever seemed to dissolve into smoke.

I don’t have to make list of reasons why we _failed_. There was never an agreement between us to never contact each other, to grow in separated path of lives. Part of me would always be greedy for you, but it’s a shadow; visible under the light but has no ability to speak out.

You know that about me too, that’s why I don’t understand why you decided to visit me again, this time with an invitation in your hand.


	3. Three

“Seungri could just give it himself but he asked me to give it to you because he has to fly back to Hong Kong today,” you sit on my couch.

I sneer as I roll my eyes. “He could’ve just text me?”

“Can’t,” you shrug. “He said it’s a very _very_ private party where your status doesn’t matter as long as you bring the invitation. The real invitation _card._ ”

“Not even if you’re his bandmate?”

Your face fall and I taste the bitter in my tongue as memories resurface between us. I pulled out the seams and the waves are now crashing down, chasing each other, drowning us.

“I’m sorry,” I speak first. “Not everyone will recognize us in a club Seungri owns.”

You smile but it’s a sunset, orange for a second and fading into black the next.

“He has _too_ many friends,” I argue because it’s hurting me too, the fact that we had changed so much.

“They would recognize you, you’re quite popular these days.”

I shake my head embarrassedly. “They blew it off, whatever I said or did.”

“They love you,” you smile.

_Do you?_ I almost ask. _Did you?_

_“Hyung?” I tried to make out your shadow through the dark. You smelled fresh of raindrops and fallen leaves._

_“It’s me,” your voice reached me first than the light you turned on. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”_

_“It’s okay,” I lay back on the bed, adjusting my blanket over myself again. “Where were you?”_

_You seemed troubled to answer and I thought maybe I shouldn’t ask. “Out.”_

_“We’re not supposed to go out this late, hyung,” I should really shut up. “What if –”_

_“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” you slipped in your own bed, just seven steps away from mine._

_“No, I won’t,” I sighed and closed my eyes. “Of course, I won’t, hyung.”_

_“I trust you, Daesung,” you smiled. “Thank you.”_

You slip through the door as the sky paints itself with darker shades of grey, the moon makes its way lazily across the horizon. Your car, I notice, is different than the one you brought to pick me up yesterday. Do you have a collection now? Do you change it every week? Did you ever drive around the town to find a place where people would not recognize your face _and your past_?

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” I lie, even before completely understanding your question. “What?”

“You’re going to say _something_ ,” your smile is wicked, completely drawn in your face with triumph and pride. You used to take knowing me before I myself did as something to be proud about. “Spill it, Daesung.”

“Your car, it’s different from yesterday,” I give up.

“Oh yeah, this one is my favorite.”

I wonder what else might be your favorite these days. Have you forget the taste of my mother’s cooking that once you said you’d pick as your last meal? Do you still think that picking ice cream flavor is the hardest thing to do in the world?

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you walk up to the vehicle and I’m tailing behind, our footsteps leaving no trace on the concrete ground.

“I hope Jiyong–hyung’s angelic side will be present instead of his sandpaper mode.”

You laugh and get inside the car, rolling your window down as soon as you lock the door. “I hope I won’t mess up.”

“You won’t,” I fight immediately. “You’ll do great.”

“You know I haven’t sing in…forever.”

I know it’s only years because I’ve been counting. “Trust me, hyung, you’ll be alright.”

“I trust you, I don’t trust me, Daesung. I…I never thought I’d come back.”

“Then why did you?” I ask before I could stop myself.

“I better be going,” you start the engine then leave.

 

 

I can’t sleep. I’ve written scenarios in my head, some that’s better than reality. What if I never asked you that stupid _why_? Surely I wouldn’t have this acid of regret spreading all over my chest. What if you actually came up with an answer? Maybe I wouldn’t be kept up late and could finally move on from you –or would I come up with even more questions, considering that almost three years we didn’t talk to each other? It’s spiraling down to a question I never dared to speak out loud.

_What if you never left?_

_What if I never loved?_

“You didn’t expect me to come.”

The thing about Seungri is, you can’t really _expect_ him. He’ll be either too high from your expectation or too far away you can’t connect the dots.

“No worries, hyung, I just want to give you a gift.”

The thing about Seungri is that you don’t have to expect anything.

“I thought you’re having fun in Hong Kong.”

“Not anymore,” Seungri’s shoes is brand new and so white, the one Jiyong–hyung got to advertise. It’s probably a gift or Seungri’s way to impress our leader. It’s not that Jiyong asked him to do so. It’s not that Jiyong is _not_ impressed. If you look closer, you’d see how much his eyes are glued to Seungri instead of the other way around. “We have a comeback, remember?”

“Thanks for reminding me”

Seungri’s eyes fall on my untouched cup of tea. “Were you thinking?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well,” he shrugs off his denim jacket, one that I sure he worn for the sake of fashion. “You always think.”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“Have fun?”

“I am,” I grin and Seungri sneers. It’s against the manner to talk to your elder but we’ve overcome the awkwardness as well as age boundaries years ago. “I’m having fun with myself.”

“Oh, how?”

“I’m not going to feed your imagination, _Seunghyun_.”

He shrugs. “You look like an old man.”

“I’m older than you.”

“No, I mean…just stop thinking too much.”

 

But I can’t.

_I think_ so I don’t remember.

I can’t stop thinking, not yet.


	4. Four

“Where the hell are you, Lee Seunghyun?”

I raise my eyebrow. “About five minutes away from your kingdom and this is Daesung, by the way, hyung.”

Jiyong groans and I can picture him, with his hair stuffed under his rainbow beanie and unshaved beard, falling back onto his chair. “He should’ve told me that he’d pick you up on his way.”

I glance at Seungri, suddenly able to figure out the reason why would he stop by my house considering that it’s an hour away from his almighty villa–house. “He is driving, do you want to talk to him? I’ll put you on speaker, hyung.”

“No, it’s fine, just be careful.”

“Alright, is everyone arrived already?”

“No, just me because I haven’t left this place for two days.”

I laugh. “We’re in the parking lot, see you soon.”

“I really wanted to pick you up,” Seungri says quickly as I hand him his phone back. “We didn’t see each other at Seunghyun–hyung’s welcoming party.”

“First, it wasn’t a party, it was a meeting. Second, we couldn’t meet because you were too busy to make it on time to that meeting. Third, I know you were just trying to find an excuse so that Jiyong–hyung won’t be mad at you,” the car comes to a stop and I unbuckle my seatbelt. “But why would he be mad at you? We’re not late. In fact, we’re early.”

“I haven’t answered to his messages,” Seungri sighs. “And calls.”

They have strange and weird competition between them that I had figured out too hard to understand unless you’re Seungri or Jiyong.

“He will be mad at you,” I state, matter-of-factly because I’ve experienced this over the years.

“He likes me anyway,” Seungri laughs.

“We like you even though you’re a pain in the ass.”

“You like the _other_ Seunghyun more.”

It freezes me halfway pushing the button but I put a mask quickly, just fast enough for Seungri to see the damage he’d done. “I’ll like you more if you could just shut up.”

_Hell, as if I could._

 

 

_“How are you, Daesung?”_

_You’re as pale as transparent ghost and my fingers ached to touch you but you might disappear._

_Or worst, you might be just my imagination, again._

_“Kang Daesung, I’m talking to you.”_

_“Hmm,” I said but I didn’t hear myself. In my ears, there was downpour so heavy I couldn’t see past through. “I’m fine, hyung.”_

_“You’re lying,” your arm sneaked around mine like a personal bracelet; a handcuff. “I know you.”_

_“No, you don’t,” because I didn’t even know myself anymore. “You don’t really know about me.”_

_“What I don’t know about you?”_

_I looked at you and watched the glint in your eyes dissolved into dark abyss. You’re so close and the air had no space to slip between us._

_“Many things,” I told you. “I don’t think you want to know.”_

_What I really meant was that I won’t ever let you know._

It’s as if spring never began and you’re forever trapped in your long sleeves winter outfit. Jiyong made a snarky comment about your jacket, how it was part of winter runway and not the type you should wear to the recording room. Youngbae was the one giving him a reply although we all know that Jiyong wouldn’t change any of our style in fashion even if he’d given a chance. You look around for empty seat and I unconsciously reach to grab your wrist and pull you next to me. I realize my action a little bit too late and it burns my fingertips right where it had touched your skin a moment before but the heat of your body near mine do another trick it always does to my heart.

_Old habits die hard_ , people said. I wonder when mine was started. Was it back then when we desperately clung onto each other for us were so far away from home? Was it the time we couldn’t sleep during nights until you took out your cigarette and I watched the smoke rose in the air? Was it you? Was it me?

“So,” you begin. “Will I get to see the song?”

Whatever fight is that between Jiyong and Youngbae died after your question and they’re all back to business. I hate to call it that way but it’s also the only way to explain this all without me asking myself a question after it’s all done.

“There,” Jiyong hands you the sheet of paper that he’s been clutching – _protecting, Seungri said before he excused himself to make a phone call to his right–hand man in New Zealand_ –which I suspect as draft of lyrics for our new song. “You can start adding your rap part.”

It’s going to be difficult for you, to add your part in the song when it’s almost finished instead of working on it from the scratch like you used to do. Your face is unreadable as you scan those words written on the paper and a thought came across my mind, _it’s finished if not for you_.

I look around to see if anyone notices that I suddenly flinch on my seat but Jiyong’s headphones are already covering his ears and Youngbae is glued to his phone. Seungri is still on the corridor, probably calculating a possibility of building a lasagna house in Jeju Island. Beside me, you’re taping the pencil against your thigh, your eyebrows furrow as you select the words in your head. Leaning back on my seat, I think of things about you that I hope you’d never find out; _if it’s hard, it’s a karma because you left. If it’s easy, it’s a sign that you should stay._  


	5. Five

“We could just walk down the street and get some meat,” Seungri suggests but already chewing his rice. “My treat.”

“No, thanks,” I make a face. The thought of getting another food than what’s available in YG cafeteria while the _hyungs_ are busy, of course, had entered my mind before he even mentioned it but going down the street during lunch time to the restaurant he owns would be a trip to ten-thousand-cameras which I prefer to not having. Seungri enjoys the attention while I need to remind myself to not running as fast as possible whenever I catch someone aiming their camera on me. That’s how you could tell us apart if we ever be twins.

You’d think that after all these times, I wouldn’t squirm under the flash, my stomach wouldn’t be knotted in the crowd of our fans. Truth is that years of BIGBANG and successful solo career along with rounds of tours only added to my nervousness than easing it. The more I sing, the more I question myself at night, _is this how it supposed to be?_

It’s not about the fans, never at all. I love their attention, I hold onto their support, and as strange as it sounds, I like their screams. The flashing of their glowsticks as the light went dim during my performance becoming something I cling desperately onto when things got harder. They were what I constantly thought about for a week after your _official_ departure. The following week, I didn’t have time to mourn anymore because I already had a complete set of tour I had to finish. The fans were what brought us this far, after all.

But stage after stage, it became harder to ignore the doubt in my mind. Did I smile for them, for myself, or for the sake of you? Did I do this all because I wanted to make them happy or to keep myself in a path that may somehow crossed again with yours? Did I sing to forget you or because that’s what I could do to bring you back? Was I lying to myself, to us all?

“He’ll be alright.”

I look up to see Seungri finishing his meal and is eyeing my plate. “Who?”

“Seunghyun–hyung,” he frowns. “You’re not hungry?”

“Not really,” I put down my spoon, the rice seem sad in the bowl. “Are you done?”

“I am,” Seungri smiles when some trainees walk past our table. “We will do great. I’ll talk to our fans and you’ll charm them, as always.”

I have an urge to smack his head. “Whatever you say.”

He laughs. “You think about it even more than Jiyong–hyung does, I think. Your hair will start to fall and you’ll go bald very soon if you keep on thinking that much.”

“I wasn’t – ” I shrug. “–just nervous, I guess.”

“Huh? I thought you were thinking about Seunghyun–hyung.”

“No,” but that’s not entirely true. “I was thinking about myself.”

“Not even about me?”

“Especially not about you.”

“Selfish,” Seungri rolls his eyes.

To be honestly fair, I totally was.

 

 

“Welcome back,” Youngbae flexes his arms, suppressing a loud yawn. “Mind if I take a nap?”

“Go, go,” Jiyong mumbles from his seat. He is chewing his pen and just now I realize that his hair is the color of grey. “Get back soon, we’re almost done.”

“I am,” you announce. I watch you rise from your seat, giving the paper to Jiyong. I can feel your nervousness as he scans your handwriting, word by word. I can sense the beat of your heart, getting faster as we wait.

“This is great,” Jiyong bounces on his heel and Youngbae groans from indirect denied access to sleep. “Let’s try. Go in, Seunghyun.”

You slip into the recording booth like a ballerina, not missing a step although carefully as tiptoeing. Jiyong must’ve told you that _we_ had had a discussion about this song already. I’ve heard the melody for my part, at least the raw version of it since Jiyong was still working on the wording part. I’ve been told about what’s this song about.

You take a deep breath and when Jiyong put the music on, I ask you quietly in my head, _does it hurt to be the last one to know? Does it bother you that we almost make it without you? Was it why you came back? How does it feel to be left out?_

I stagger back ridiculously as my last question resounding in the back of my mind. Youngbae’s eyes trailing me curiously as I let out sad excuse to go out but he doesn’t say anything. When I reach the bathroom, I can’t lift my head to see my own reflection. Things collided in my chest, emotions are punching my gut. I can’t stop my trembling hands as I realize that I might want to hurt you as bad as you’ve hurt me.

 

 

_“I like holding your hand.”_

_I blinked, unable to comprehend with the sudden confession. “Uhm…thanks, hyung.”_

_“But you don’t seem to like it that much.”_

_I laughed. It’s your childish side that I adored the most. “Well, people started to get a wrong idea seeing us holding hands most of times, you know that.”_

_You looked at me, titling your head slightly to the side. “What kind of wrong idea?”_

_I looked down to our linked arms and I couldn’t find the answer to your question. “Nothing, hyung. There’s nothing wrong.”_


	6. Six

There had been times, when I looked at you and I didn’t see what I was supposed to be seeing. Lights where it was supposed to be your eyes, possibilities instead of reassurance smile, or dreams as you spoke things that didn’t really matter. I thought it was because you made me believe in you, but it’s actually because you made me believe in myself. I can’t say that it’s the same right now but there’s familiar feeling pooling in my stomach when you raise your head up to meet my gaze as I re-enter the room.

“Seungri is next,” you say and I turn my eyes to the recording booth, watching Youngbae singing his heart out in it. “You’re the last one.”

I nod and try to walk pass your seat but your fingers delicately touch my wrist where it burns the skin with invisible flame.

“Nervous?” your voice small, afraid of interrupting Jiyong’s concentration. “You look tired.”

I shrug nonchalantly. “Just the lack of sleep.”

You squint your eyes as if you’re trying to read me through.

“I need to warm up,” reaching for the sheet I abandoned before I ran out, your grasp comes to an end. “Are you done yet, hyung?”

“No, not yet,” you sigh. The rest of your sentence comes in a low mumble as Youngbae escapes from the booth and Seungri takes a deep breath. “I’ll record some more part after you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, Jiyong said we need to do this part together,” you point at the chorus.

I stare mutely at the paper.

“We shouldn’t?”

“ _Oh_ , no, it’s just we never got to sing a part _together_ before,” I force a laughter out, still surprised at Jiyong’s decision. “We did it with all of us or just me and Seungri or…just never…”

“Just think about those fans been praying for our collaboration,” a smile breaks upon your face, it steals my next breath away. “We’re about to feed their imagination.”

I look away with a sneer, knowingly deep down that it will feed my very own fantasy too.

 

 

Love has no instruction, direction, or precaution but it’s certainly meant _to hurt_. In whatever degree, it will leave scars; some fades with time, some eventually got healed and move on, the rest bleeds for the rest of one’s life.

“I’m getting married,” she says with a shy smile that reminds me of our first date. “Next week.”

I find myself unable to give any proper response to the news. Here she is, six months after our break up, already finding her destiny and counting up to days she will receive the legal status as a wife. Here I am, six months after our break up, still trying to dig myself out of my own misery.

“Daesung?”

“Congratulations,” then because I want to be really honest unlike the last time we met, “I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay,” she reaches to touch my hand, her palm is still warm like the way I remember it. She had cut her hair short and dyed it the dark shade of brown, the way she once told me had always been a wishful thinking. She doesn’t wear the necklace I gave her anymore, instead there’s a bracelet branding her wrist. “I met him three months ago, we’re in love.”

“I’m sorry,” I hear myself saying before my brain can find any excuse. “I’m happy for you.”

She shakes her head. “You should be happy for yourself, Daesung.”

“Noona,” I squirm, guilt strikes up to my throat. “I really am so sorry.”

She squeezes my hand tighter and even without words, I understand what it means. That she forgave me, that she didn’t regret it either, just like me. The way we parted ways was quiet, the kind of falling apart that neither of us already saw long before it came. It didn’t make it hurt any less.

“How do you know I’m here?” I ask. She gives a little laugh and lets go of her hold, lifting her cup of coffee.

“I asked your manager this morning,” she answers. “I wanted to give you a surprise.”

“Well, I am surprised,” I really was, in a good way possible. She deserves the best, I have no doubt in it. “Congratulations, I’ll come for sure.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she waves me off. Her voice tingle with happiness and I’m jealous, just like that. “I just want to inform you myself about this. I know you have things to do.”

“I –”

“I read the news, Daesung,” she pats my arm softly and gets up from her seat. “You probably should comeback. Late night recording?”

“No,” I raise up too. “We’re just done.”

She hums. “If I’m not mistaken, there’s a rumor that he will join the comeback.”

I stiffen at the statement – _or speculation, it is, for other people_. “He will.”

“ _Oh_.”

She doesn’t speak as the elevator takes us down to the parking lot. I follow her to her car, still the bright red one she always bragged about.

“I’ll see you next week,” I promise even though I haven’t told my manager about it yet. Who knows what might up to my agenda?

“Just wish me not to sleep through my alarm on my wedding day,” she laughs. “And good luck, Daesung.”

“Thank you, noona.”

“One more,” her hand comes to pat my cheek. “I want you to be brave.”

“Is this about cockroaches?”

“No!” she smacks my head half-heartedly and I let out a yelp. “You know what _it’s_ about. I want you to be happy.”

“I want it too, noona.”

She rolls her eyes and gets inside her car, starting the engine then waves her hand one last time before rearing back and out of my sight. Her last sentence echoes through the night like shooting stars I’m desperately hoping to catch.

The only matter about _what I want_ is that a particular someone must _want_ it too. Which is hard because the last time I remember ever wishing for some _one_ so hard, he jerked away from my grasp, leaving me with all my hope dangling like a comma.

I shake my head and sigh aloud, turn around to find you staring at me, your expression is utterly unexplainable.


	7. Seven

_You were sitting at the end of the couch. I was twenty and laying on my belly on the carpet. TV played a re-run of one sappy drama Jiyong would love if only he had nothing to do tonight. Seungri was out again with his friends and Youngbae already in his dreamland._

_“What is that?”_

_“Nothing.”_

_“Let me see.”_

_I looked over my shoulder but you’re already beside me, laying on your side._

_“Come on, Daesung,” you grinned. “I won’t tell anyone.”_

_I knew you love secrets. “Promise me you won’t tell Jiyong–hyung?”_

_“That means I get to tell Youngbae?”_

_I raised an eyebrow._

_“I promise,” you scooted closer. “What you’ve been doing?”_

_I handed out the crumpled paper I’ve been reading. “Reading.”_

_You retraced the syllables I’ve written with your fingertips. I felt the burnt in my chest and the loud beating of my heart as you whispered out the words slowly. “You’ve been writing?”_

_“Reading,” I shook my head. “I wrote this…a week ago.”_

_“Why didn’t you tell me?”_

_“It’s nothing,” I tried to snuck away to my room even though our conversation wasn’t ended yet. “Really, hyung.”_

_“I’ll keep this.”_

_“What?”_

_“I’m going to keep this.”_

_“But it’s mine,” I stutter to give a reason. “And it’s –it’s…”_

_“Nothing?”_

_I nodded. “Hyung, why would you need it anyway?”_

_“Why would I need your writing?”_

_“You don’t even know what that is, do you?”_

_You frowned. “Well, this can be anything. I like it.”_

_“What would you do if I give it to you?” I sneered. Your logic was somehow bizarre and I could not follow. “You wrote a lot by yourself too, you wrote your own part for our songs.”_

_“I’ll keep it.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because it’s from you.”_

_“What’s the difference?”_

_“I’ll keep whatever you’re going to give me. So…mine?”_

_“Fine,” I laughed and pushed the paper to your hand. “Yours.”_

It wasn’t only the words that you took from me that day.

 

 

“Seungri said you were with him this morning,” you stare down at the solid ground. “I guess it’s my turn to impress you with my driving skill this time.”

I smile out of my will, reflexively. “Why would you try to impress me, hyung?”

You shrug, I watch your eyes averting mine. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Why _should_ you?” I can’t help but laughing at that silly request of yours. There’s nothing you could do to impress me, yet there’s nothing you should do to impress me.

“Let me take you home.”

My laughter dies in my throat. I try to swallow the cold strikes up to my fingertips but it’s hard because you melt it away with your stare. I let out the faintest _sure_ and it takes you two seconds to register before playfully shoving me to your car.

“Am I the King or something? Suddenly everyone being so nice to me,” I find my voice again after a while.

Music comes to the space between us as you turn on the player but you hear my sentence anyway. “Aren’t you the one with popularity just second to the Emperor of Japan?”

“Am not,” I roll my eyes. “I’m even in higher rank now, hyung.”

You laugh, there’s a faint line on your face and I keep myself from touching it, asking about it. “You’re popular.”

“Yeah,” I look out the window so I don’t have to see you. “Thanks to everyone else.”

“Thank you yourself, Daesung.”

“It’s not me, I never worked alone.”

“But you’ve been working hard too.”

“You don’t know that,” I feel the invisible scars boil inside me, as if I’ve been waiting to say this for so long. _You don’t know anything about me anymore._

“’Told you I’ve been following the news,” your voice doesn’t waver at all. “It’s not that I completely blocked you guys out of my life.”

I close my eyes and the vision in my head is turning pitch black. There sure things I imagine, there sure things that’s real, but at this moment, I’m not sure which is which.

“Daesung?”

“It felt like you did, though, hyung.”

You finally decide to fill the distance between us with no more conversation. There’s no storm outside but the thunder in my ears ringing so loud I swear you could hear it too.

 

 

“Thank you, hyung,” I stumble out of your car, tangled with fatigue already. My throat is dry and I pretend that it’s the reason I didn’t try to streak anymore conversation for the past 30 minutes. “Be careful, okay?”

“Okay,” you cast your eyes down, your hands remain on the steering wheel. “See you tomorrow?”

“See you, hyung. Sleep well,” then a habit, “Don’t drink too much.”

“I won’t!” you let out a sharp laugh, probably you didn’t expect me to say such thing. It was always been the tease between us, a playful reminder that we’d still have tomorrow instead of painfully giving up today. “And I’m sorry,” you say with quieter tone.

The wind brushes my hair, draping you words like a tent on my shoulder. “Make sure to show up on time tomorrow or Jiyong–hyung will blow us all.”

You smile and I watch you go. Clenching all my guts, I whisper to no one, “Make sure to stay long enough.”


	8. Eight

Believe me, fell in love with my bestfriend – _my brother_ –was never my choice. If it was up to my decision, I’d never pick someone like you to be the bowl of my attention. I would not choose you to be the one I persistently want to show all of me, all the things behind what I was expected to be. I never wanted us to spiral down toward whatever we are now.

Fame chased almost all my friends away and brought back some new ones, but love burnt things like wildfire until everything was ashes and all I could see was your back leaving through the smoke.

 

 

The gift Seungri brought is a crystal ball that has a miniature of Eiffel Tower inside, floating within some kind of liquid with tiny colorful bubbles serve as imitation of snow, and I’m a hundred–percent sure didn’t come from Hong Kong at all. It’s the size of my fist and the shape is, well, round, it will roll away the moment you forget to be careful.

I shake it and watch the bubbles dance inside the transparent glass, the figurine stays in the middle in a standing position no matter what.

_“I have a girlfriend.”_

The glass shattered against the cold tiles, the sound it makes when it breaks is ugly and echoed through my empty house. I watch the end of beauty pooling into small puddle, the tiny statue lies in the middle, now in solitary without companion.

I feel thunders of memories strike me like shots, the day I lost what I never really had.

_“Oh,” I didn’t know what to say, I forgot completely what I was supposed to say. The ability to render me speechless had been yours for as long as I knew. “Congratulations.”_

_You nodded and the smoke lingered between us as protection walls. “She’s sweet.”_

_You said the same about cigarette and wine. A celebration of life you couldn’t quit._

_“Then it’s good,” I told you, I convinced myself. “I’m happy for you, hyung.”_

_“I want to be happy too, Daesung.”_

You’re wearing the sleepiest smile of us all and Youngbae leads the conversation to special treat of coffee – _and tea for Youngbae himself_ –before Jiyong could commit any murder. Seungri is stuck in the traffic because he had to go somewhere that, if what he said was true, about two hours away from our recording room.

“Youngbae, get inside,” Jiyong uses his leader voice. Youngbae keeps his face straight as he gets into the recording booth, warming up his vocal to record another version he did one last night because apparently after we left, Jiyong found dissatisfaction of it. I’ve been told that I need to do the same with half of my part too, which I replied with _thank you_ because no matter how much pain and tiring it’s sounded, I know that Jiyong only aimed for the best of all us.

You’re holding your cup with both of your hands, sipping its warmth with your skin. Your eyes are on the recording booth but your mind is not because your breaths are shallow. I swallow my pride as I lean closer to you, hiding all the piles of broken dreams I recalled this morning.

“Hyung.”

You don’t look up.

“ _Seunghyun–hyung_.”

“What?” your eyebrows furrowed almost in annoyance, then another moment later, “Yes? What is it, Daesung?”

“How,” I whisper quietly, and you struggle to catch my words. I see you coming back to where we are from wherever your thoughts brought you minutes ago; I see my reflection in your eyes. “How are we going to survive this?”

You blink, your mouth hangs open slightly. “ _This_?”

I gesture at the furious Jiyong tapping his pencil against his head while constantly asking Youngbae to sing the same line again.

Your lips form a smile, gentle at first until you have to bite your lower lip to stop yourself from grinning. I wait and wait and let the unspoken feeling roots in my stomach.

“We won’t,” finally you say, suppressing a laugh I’ve been wanting to hear. “We all doomed. The wrath of Kwon Jiyong.”

“No chance?” I title my head to the side and for a mere second, I swear that your eyes glow darker. “You sure, hyung?”

“I am,” you nod and fake a sad face although it’s failed miserably. “Nobody can help us, Daesung.”

Seungri bursts in and for a second everyone seems to forget what they’re doing. Youngbae stops singing and Jiyong’s head turns to see the youngest of us in _very_ slow motion that indicates only one thing. I watch with anticipation when Seungri walks in the room, wearing shades and shoes that squeak with every step he takes.

“Hyung,” he wraps his arm loose around your shoulder. “’ _sup_?”

You raise your eyebrow but know better than to reply. Youngbae carefully escapes from the recording booth, acknowledging the fact that his turn is over – _or at least, is being put aside for a while_.

“Get out,”Jiyong stands from his seat, his bangs stuck on his forehead. “Lee Seunghyun, _get out_.”

Seungri blinks and slowly absorbing our current situation. Just when I think that he won’t trigger Jiyong even more, his voice come, “ _But_ it’s my turn today!”

Jiyong strides across the room and drags the maknae off of you. We watch them bicker and whine and yell at each other, saying things that sound ridiculous but serious all the same. Nobody move or even thinking about stopping them, then Jiyong pushes Seungri out of the door while Seungri persistently clings onto him. Youngbae approaches the two carefully but keeping a safe distance until the two stumble out of the room with a thud as Seungri lands on his butt and Jiyong unceremoniously fall on him.

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” Youngbae rolls his eyes and just now I remember about the new produce who’s been assigned to work with us with this project because everyone else is busy with other groups’ projects. Probably that’s one of the reason why Jiyong seems so upset.

I want to say something to ease the white of shock in the man’s face, clearly new to this scene of our leader and maknae fights but your voice distracts me from thinking.

“Well, Daesung, I think _Lord_ Seungri just saved us from the dragon.”

I laugh and you do too, out loud until our stomach hurts. We try to say something in between but sentences never come to final, we’re just too busy cherishing the sudden interruption. At the end of it, when Jiyong walks back in with Seungri trails behind him chanting _Kwon Jiyong_ repeatedly with excessive amount of aegyo, we both have tears in our eyes. You lean on my shoulder, your arm snakes around my waist, the air smell like cigarette you used to leave in my house when we were much younger than today.


	9. Nine

Sometimes I can find no reason at all to fall for you. You can go from being quiet in the corner to the most annoying person on earth in a blink of an eye. Like now.

“Hyung, stop it,” Seungri groans. His plea goes ignored as predicted and your phone sings another shutter click. Jiyong sneers but continues to pretend that he doesn’t see anything wrong with your act, maybe a punishment for Seungri. Youngbae laughs but then joins the prank involuntarily, being the prankster he is. I am the only one who notice a group of four trainees bowing when they see us.

“Daesung.”

My palms shot to cover up my face immediately. “Not me,” I shake my head.

Laughter erupts and I can easily pick out yours amongst the others.

“I just want to ask if you’re going to eat your kimbap,” you whine and I peek between my fingers.

Sure that you’re not holding your phone against me, I scowl, a little bit embarrassed. “Well, I was just being _careful_.”

“It’s not that you’re not used to him,” Youngbae sneers. It makes my stomach flips uncomfortably because at the same time your hand brushes mine.

“You’re eating so little recently,” Seungri says. “Come to my place, I’ll feed you well, hyung.”

“He’s trying to turn us into pandas,” Jiyong laughs. “Don’t fall for the trap, Daesung.”

“I won’t,” I grin to tease Seungri. As expected, he gives us a glare.

“Come to my place,” you steal the kimbap from my plate without waiting for my permission anymore. “I’ll feed you _just enough_.”

“Where is it?” Seungri asks.

The question drives us silent. I know it will, I know that someday we will no longer be able to run away from talking about things that hurt us. I know that soon, I will have to turn back the page and re-read all the chapters from your point of view. I wonder if that will hurt more or it’s the closure I’ve been looking for.

“I’ll text you the address,” you swallow. Jiyong looks down and Seungri bites his tongue, his face spits regret. Youngbae tries to lift up the mood by telling us some dad jokes.

I put down my chopstick and make an excuse to leave.

 

 

_I’d never seen her before. And I didn’t know that I wished for it to stay that way until the day we met. Her smile was poetic, something that I couldn’t see past through._

_“It’s nice to finally meeting you,” she held out a hand. “Seunghyun–oppa had told me a lot about you.”_

_I reached out to shake her hand, selfishly wishing to catch some of her luck of…simply being her. The kind of luxury I did not have._

_“I’m glad to see you too,” and in spite of what I had intended to do, I couldn’t say what I’ve been practicing to say: take care of him, please._

 

 

When I get in the elevator, someone’s already there. Bowing profusely as soon as he sees me, I assume that this might be one of the trainee. He’s wearing a white shirt BIGBANG’s logo printed in its front, bold black. I smile the smile I always flashed on stage, the one people claimed to charm my fans. This kid’s eyes go wider before he returns my silent greeting with a soft spoken words.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” he bows, again. “I’m a fans.”

“Then it’s my honor to meet you,” I say and watch him trying his best to hide away his embarrassment and wonder. I’m not used to fame, at some degrees, it always makes me uncomfortable.

“I heard that you’re making a comeback,” he speaks still quietly but I’ve been trained to catch up whispers. You had said once that it’s my charming point. I can’t help but ask in my head if it still is.

“Yes, by the end of this year, hopefully,” we’re planning for it to be out _soon_ , but things often get escalated quickly, I don’t know which one will happen this time. “I hope you’ll like it.”

“I will!” his voice raises to a certain note and he ducks his head in shame right after. I laugh at this innocent act.

“Thank you so much.”

“Can I ask something else?” he seeks for approval in my gestures.

“Sure, I’ll try my best to answer.”

“Will T.O.P join this comeback as well?”

The elevator dings and the kid bows again to me, glancing at his wrist watch, ready to run to catch his routine schedule perhaps.

“Yes,” I smile but I’m not sure if it’s the best answer or just something _I_  need to hear. “He will.”

“Thank you.”

The door closed and I have no idea which floor I’m trying to reach.

 

 

_The word ‘so’ hung between us like a curtain. Sky was grey, it was an afternoon, sun set without its usual yellow. I didn’t break the silence, you were having your pride on your sleeves. It was easy to say that we parted that day, that if there was something between us, we agreed not to mention anymore. You reached for my hand, threading our fingers together like two puzzle pieces and I wished I didn’t see how much your spaces filled mine. We leaned closer at the same time without a cue, until our foreheads were pressed together, until I was pretty sure that the best thing often came in a form of shadow._


	10. Ten

“Seungri is out to make a call,” Jiyong rolls his eyes. His fingers fumble with a cigarette. “Youngbae had to leave to pick up his mother.”

“Hmm,” I reach for my water bottle. Jiyong’s eyes twitch in anticipation and I sneer. “And Seunghyun–hyung?”

He grinned with pride. “Out to smoke.”

“He can do it just here,” I frown. “You guys always do that just _here_.”

“Did,” Jiyong corrects. “We just start a _new_ us.”

I swallow, the lump in my throat gets bigger by every word I don’t want to say. “Right.”

“Our Daesung-ie seems like he’s not adapting very well.”

I know that tease very well and I wish I could just grow out of it but I can’t escape Jiyong, never. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come here,” he pats the seat beside him, the one usually reserved for you. “Let’s talk.”

_Talking_ , in Jiyong’s dictionary, often means gossiping. Not that I’m not used to it, but being the topic of discussion is definitely not what I would enjoy to be. Still, I drag myself to his side, carefully not making weird gestures that would make Jiyong’s smirk grow any wider.

“What is it, hyung?”

“What is _it,_ Daesung? You’re not happy?” he pats my head softly, putting his dead cigarette on the ashtray. “Is it not what you want?”

“It could be,” my voice trails down the wind, unsure and grounded. “Maybe this is not what I want.”

“Then do you _know_ what you want?”

Jiyong’s fingers are thin, his nails are bitten to the quick. I lean to his touch as he throws an arm around my shoulder. He’s slightly shorter than me, which makes it harder to focus on him because it’s different than you. He can speak about paintings just like you, in words and appreciation I don’t fully understand, but his eyes don’t have the glint like yours, one with green and sometimes fluorescent anxiety.

“Maybe,” I shrug. “Maybe I don’t want anything, hyung.”

“Maybe _this_ is what you want, Daesung,” Jiyong squeezes my shoulder. “Nobody knows what they really want.”

“Do you?” I take a deep breath, my chest tightened with regret. “Do you know what you really want, hyung?”

“Most of times,” Jiyong’s voice slows down with the sound of door opening. I don’t have to see to know, I remember your steps the way I remember my name. “But not always.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Daesung,” Jiyong laughs, you walk closer. “You’ll know.”

 

 

_“Are you going to come back, hyung?” Seungri asked. His voice wavered, nothing like him. But there was nobody in this damn room that looked like themselves. Jiyong was so full with desperation, Youngbae kept himself in silent._

_You shrugged, a wordless gesture to say that things might get worse._

_I wanted to keep you, I needed to keep you. So I closed my eyes and a scene unfolded in my head, one without you saying goodbye to all of us; one of you choosing to stay after all the mess._

_Outside, day broke into thunderstorm._

 

“You,” you point at Jiyong, nose scrunched up. “Are crazy.”

“Funny, Seunghyun,” Jiyong yawn. I wonder if the amount of sleep he’s getting for the past months is less than 24 hours. “Get inside.”

“I’m not singing,” you groan, pouting childishly. Seungri laughs and you kick his legs for good measure. It makes me laugh and you shine with embarrassment. “Jiyong, I’m just back.”

“That’s the reason why you should sing this,” Jiyong throws you a crumpled paper.

You shift nervously on your seat, still refusing to start your recording.

“Seunghyun,” Jiyong is using his leader voice. Seungri sits straight in alert, he used to be the end of the receiver of that tone. “You _wrote_ this.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t for me,” you sigh. “I’ve told you.”

“I’m not doing this ridiculous discussion, Seunghyun. You can stomp your feet against the earth but you are still going to record this _fucking_ song.”

“What makes you think I’m going to be the one who sing it?”

“What makes you think _Daesung_ is?”

“Me?” I jump in the fight immediately after hearing my name. “Why me?”

“Because Seunghyun wrote this for you?” Jiyong stares at me with annoyance, probably assuming that I’ve already knew about it. Then realization sinks in the air between us. “ _Oh_.”

“Daesung–hyung get a solo in this album?” Seungri asks.

“No,” Jiyong clicks his tongue. “Seunghyun is, come on, Seunghyun.”

I’m still too shocked to react, I keep my eyes straight at the pinkish tip of my shoes. I hear the creak your chair makes as you get up from it, heading to the recording booth.

 

 

I always thought that it’s hard because you were once my bestfriend. I couldn’t get over you because you owed me the secrets of your leaving, because I was unconsciously expecting you to explain, at least, with more words than just _I’m sorry_. That I was hurt because it felt like you did not trust me to hold your thoughts anymore after slipping into love that’s deeper than it should be.

_You couldn’t tell me because I shouldn’t love you in the first place._

_You didn’t tell me because I should be responsible for our feelings like I was responsible for most of things between us_.

It made me angry, it made me feel like you’re blaming me for everything. I couldn’t control it, I didn’t intend it to be _it_. I told myself lies to make it better.

_Leaving was your choice. Therefore, it’s your mistake. Not mine, never mine. You didn’t let me try. It’s all your loss._

I blamed you, for I’m seeing things I want to share but have nobody who is listening. I blamed you, for I’m falling but no one is catching. I blamed you, for all the love I feel but you’re leaving it behind.

I blamed you, knowing it’s the only possible way to make you turn around.

You never did. You didn’t seem to mind the blame.

Oh, _right_ , you didn't know how I've been feeling.

Or you just didn’t care anymore.


	11. Eleven

I see you exiting the booth, Seungri’s jaw is still slacked open in awe.

“How was it?” you ask, straight to me. Jiyong tries to hide his smile but I can’t hide my feelings. I wonder if you’re seeing it too, wrenched open on the floor around your heels like petals. I wonder if you’re seeing and ignoring it, or worse, running away from it. “What do you think about it?”

“Does it matter what I think?”

Your face falls and Seungri shifts quietly on his seat.

“It was great, hyung,” If I could, I would take back my quick respond. Judging from his gaze, Jiyong is ready to help my jump off of the building if I ever repeat my words. “Really, I like it.”

“Thanks,” you smile.

“I love it,” Seungri bounces to your side. “It’s great. The lyrics are so…sincere.”

“What do you think about it, Daesung?” Jiyong raise his voice. “Don’t you think it’s so sincere too?”

You don’t look up to see my face but I know you’re listening.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, swallowing the nails throbbing in my veins. “I love it.”

I’m sitting on the floor, tracing the number _1989_ on the empty bottle of wine sitting in front of me. My glass is empty but not my head. I can hear your voice resounding from memories.

**_Maybe, the reason is because I see so much of me._ **

**_The insecurities in his eyes, the stutter of his voice, the trembling of his confidence._ **

**_Maybe, the reason is because he is the polar opposite._ **

**_The trust in his words, the sweetness in his messages, the love he finds in me._ **

**_Maybe_ **

I shake the bottle frustratingly. There’s nothing left I can pour down to drown myself.

_Was the song for me? Was the song about me?_

_Was it about you, trying to understand me?_

“There was no reason,” I struggle to tell myself. “There was no love.”

 

 

Heartache is a noun, which in my case, has two eyes, a thin lips and a voice that resembles a shy grumble of a thunder. Its footsteps are light and full of surprise just as much as familiarity, one that I’ve catalogued and traced over times. It doesn’t matter if it is going away or coming closer, I’d recognize the pattern of the way you walk anywhere.

And your reaction when you see me already in the elevator; eyes go wide, mouth parts in surprise before it suppresses a smile that seeps out like hidden secret.

“What are you doing here?” you bounce on your feet beside me, the elevator door closes before us.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

“Did you just talk back to your hyung?” you narrow your eyes but you would never be able to fool me, not with the surprise still written all over your face. Maybe you didn’t expect to see me here.

_Could it be that you’ve been wishing to?_

I laugh. “Just the same like why you’re here, hyung.”

“And why is that?” you check your wrist watch. You didn’t usually wear one unless it’s fashion. I bite my tongue before I can ask stupid question about your choice of accessories. It’s what I would do if we were just few years before.

“Why would you want to know?”

“ _Yah!_ ” your hand moves to touch my cheek, delicate enough to be counted as playful, quick enough that I did not see it coming. I’m rooted to my spot, certain that what happened didn’t really happen, but you don’t seem to notice. “You just _again_ answered my question with another question.”

We arrive at the floor we’re reaching before I recover from the sudden closeness. You step out first, turn around and wait for me.

“Come on, Daesung. Aren’t you missing dancing too?”

 

 

“I didn’t come here to dance,” I say in between breaths. “I didn’t miss dancing at all.”

You are laying on your back, laughing and sweating. “You should’ve told me.”

“I did,” I groan, sitting on the floor with adrenaline still rushing in my veins. “You weren’t listening, hyung.”

“Well, I was too busy dancing,” you throw me a not–so–guilty grin. “Don’t tell me you weren’t.”

I give up on reasoning because you’re right. “Fine. It was fun, hyung.”

We chase back the air, trying to come back to our sense and normal breathing.

“I miss this,” you say after a while.

“Dancing like a crazy man?” I mumble.

“Yeah,” you nod. “ _This_.”

Around us, mirrors stand tall on the walls, reflecting everything but feelings. I have to admit that I miss _this_ too.

 

 

It’s _weird_.

One moment, I was thinking about running away. The next, I keep insisting to stay. I guess that’s what happened when one can’t sort out his feeling, whether it’s love or hate, whether it’s falling apart or coming together. I don’t hate you, but I can’t be certain if I am still in love with you the way I was. I don’t know for sure if I’m doing this because I need you _right now_ or that I need to fill what I thought would happen if you never left. You’re not the same person like you were and sometimes I barely could identify my past self.

It seems like I’ve divided my life into two; _the before and after_.

“I’m going to come out on Thursday.”

“ _Oh_ ,” I pause my breathing, barely grasping the conversation. “Where?”

“Where?” your eyes look at me through your sunglasses. “Well, on TV?”

“What?”

You chuckle. “I’m going to…you know, tell the world that I’m _back_.”

I blink. “I don’t know that we’ll be doing…a press conference?”

“Not we,” you say. “Just me.”

“Oh,” I nod as if I understand. “All right.”

“They think it’s better if I say this by myself first.”

“They?”

“The company,” you shrug. “Then maybe we will do it together. The five of us.”

“Okay, hyung.”

“That’s just my guess.”

“Hmm,” I see some teenagers around the age of seventeen, laughing their heart out as if the world can’t come to a stop anytime now.

“Were you glad that I came back?”

The question feels like Christmas Eve; full of wrapped gifts, prayers, and wistful thinking that someone will lay out a present for you as you sleep, to compensate your good behavior.

I could spend my whole life thinking if it’s a _yes_ or _no_. So I say what I know is true, “I didn’t expect you to come back, hyung.”

Distance is relative. Even just gap of two empty bowls could be ocean wide. I swallow down water to wash down some matters that bubbles up upon my lips. _I didn’t know you’d come back. I didn’t know you could._

“I’ve told you that I didn’t expect myself to come back either,” you speak, low and growing quieter at the end.

“I remember.”

“Truth is,” you smile a sadness, soft like skin of rose. “I still can’t believe that I had.”

I have no words for that. Half of me still woke up with thought that you’re only part of my imagination. “Not officially until Thursday.”

“You know what I meant,” you smile wider, with less of anguish. “Look at me, at us now. Eating in the corner of small restaurant, barely feeling our legs.”

“I’m not going to carry you on my back, hyung.”

“You will if I ask you to.”

“What are you?” I laugh, carefully even though there aren’t so many people around. “Five?”

“Thirty something,” you grin. “But I’m still the baby.”

I shake my head amusedly.

“I can’t believe that either,” you tell as if you’re reading my mind. “That I said all those things I just did. That I’m having this conversation with _you_ when I walked out of _this all_ years ago.”

I think of all those conversations we had, every single one that ended up in laughter or whisper or silence. It was all in the past and soon, this one too, will be something that’s passed.

“You are here,” I say the thing that matters. “You came back.”

_Even if that means I’m going to lose you once again._


	12. Twelve

I honestly have no _fucking_ idea if forgiveness takes a shape of water or that I am just an idiot. I don’t realize I’ve voiced my frustration out loud until you whine.

“I’m _not_ going to get you into trouble! I just asked you to see my house, Daesung.”

“Well,” I shrug, glancing out the window shield. _I am_.

“You’ll love it,” you mutter silently, still loud enough for me to hear.

“I will?” I can’t hide my amusement. Sure, we’ve had years learning about ourselves but shouldn’t it be faltered by now? The ability of knowing each other deep down that we need no longer to guess?

“You will,” you stick your tongue out.

I laugh, “But it’s _your_ house?”

“Because it’s my house!” you reason. “Don’t you trust my taste?”

I stare at the stars pattern of my jeans, then the road we’re taking, and finally at your face. “We don’t have the same taste.”

_But we love like magnets._

 

 

“Welcome,” you smirk but you’re looking at your feet. Your hair falls to frame your face as you wait for me to say anything. “So?”

“Wow,” I gape at the cool of your tiles, the black of your door and obviously the huge panting hanging on the wall. “I don’t know you own a castle, hyung.”

“It’s not!” you laugh it off, tension seeps out from your shoulders. “Just my house.”

“Definitely not my taste,” I tease, only because I want to see your eyes slide back to me. It works, though, and I don’t mind the genuine shock and surprise in your stare, mingled with confusion and hesitation dripping from your feature. “It’s much better than my taste.”

Your gaze softens and the corner of your mouth rise up like sunrise, crawling to crave a mental image I will not forget. I know I’ve been letting you sink once again, I’m getting myself into a heartbreak once again. Like before, like the day of our first kiss, realizing what’s coming doesn’t make it hurt any less. If anything, it’s a disaster even more, this time that I know what stupid mistakes I might do to make you stay.

“I wish I had shown you sooner.”

Just like that, the curtain drops, separating the past and the present with a heartache.

“Come in,” your smile doesn’t take away the pain, doesn’t bring back the lost time. “I want to show you something.”

 

 

“You?” I reach to touch the glass frame but stop halfway because I remember how you used to complaint about people touching your _artwork_.

“Yes, I made it,” you stand beside me and as always, we’re only inches away in height. If I turn around and take a step forward, my eyelashes will sweep your skin and my lips will perfectly fit yours. I shake my head at the embarrassing thought. There’s no point in thinking about things I know I shouldn’t.

“This is great, hyung,” I let out a sigh, admiring the way colorful tiny blocks being stacked up into a shape of a globe.

“I still don’t believe I did that,” you chuckle, carrying the rest of your sentence to another room. “It took me five days to finish it.”

“Five,” I mutter silently, still adoring the creation. “It’s great.”

“You’d probably finish it within hours.”

I nod. “Yeah, I’m better in it than you, hyung.”

“Did you just throw me your sass, Kang Daesung?”

I offer you my best eye-smile. “Definitely not, Seunghyun–hyung.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“I won’t.”

“You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” laughter bubbles out of me at your ridiculous accusation. “I swear, hyung.”

“Your eyes are telling me so,” you make a face at me. “You can’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” I roll my eyes and let out a surprise squeak when your hand puts a grip on my nape and forces me to bend my back forward. “Hyung!”

“I worked really hard on it, you know,” you sigh. I can hear your absolute smirk. “Five days straight.”

“I know, I know,” I squeal in your hold and finally you set free. Straightening my back and pushing myself to face you, I give two thumbs up. “It’s awesome, hyung.”

You reach out at me and I squirm spontaneously, thinking that it might aim to hit me but your touch lands on my shoulder, heavy like a promise. “I think about you a lot.”

Words fail me, my body, without a shame, just stand motionlessly in front of you. It’s not until you take back your warmth and tell me to follow you to the kitchen that I have a courage to whisper, “I miss you too.”

 

 

When I was a kid, my sister told me why we couldn’t keep fireflies in a jar, no matter how beautiful it was at night. I had suggested once that we tried, I wouldn’t mind if they didn’t shine during the day. I just wanted to try.

“I’ll poke holes on the lid,” I promised and my sister sighed. “Please?”

“No,” she shook her head and in a stern voice added, “It’s not where they’re supposed to be, Daesung.”

I thought she didn’t know better, didn’t know what I planned. The very next day, gathering up my courage of bugs, I managed to catch one. I watched its light on and off until I fell asleep.

It died before I woke up.

“Sometimes, beautiful things aren’t meant to be kept,” she said as she helped me to throw it away.

I looked at the sun until everything was black and I could no longer see the screaming light sign the firefly threw me over and over again.


End file.
